


If I could trade his life for mine

by theskiesoftime



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Gen, One Shot, Sacrifice, Sort of happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-20 01:06:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12421854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theskiesoftime/pseuds/theskiesoftime
Summary: “If I could spare his life. If I could trade his life for mine. He’d be standing here right now, and you would smile, and that would be enough.”In which Alexander Hamilton actually does have the power to trade his life for his son’s.





	If I could trade his life for mine

It was dark outside now, this terrible day was finally ending, though its torture and tragedy was not. Hamilton sat in a chair at his dying son’s bedside watching Philip’s every breath, praying that the rise and fall of his chest would continue, that he wouldn’t have to see the boy take his last. 

Eliza was sat at Philip’s other side, in a fitful sleep. She had only fallen asleep by accident, Hamilton knew, the stress and exhaustion finally getting to her, and only after extracting a promise from him that he would wake her if she did. He knew he should wake her, but she had suffered too much- mostly his doing he was painfully aware- that he just couldn’t. She deserved an escape from this hell, no matter how small and short. 

He’d told Philip before the boy went off to duel- before Alexander had  _ let _ his son go off to duel- that his mother couldn’t take another heartbreak. How on earth hadn’t it crossed his mind that this would happen? Why hadn’t he thought for a second that Philip could get killed? His belief in the honor of men was fatally misplaced, his mistakes were becoming larger and more disastrous. Philip didn’t deserve this, Eliza didn’t deserve this, their family did not deserve this. Hamilton knew what he had to do.

His gaze moved from Eliza back to Philip. The boy- and he was still a boy, only nineteen years old- lay nearly still except for his labored breathing. His curls were plastered against his head, his face covered in sweat. His lower body was covered by a thin blanket, hiding the gunshot wound through his abdomen and the resulting wound in his right arm. The bullet had torn straight through him; one bullet had done all this damage to his son. Hamilton had survived war and seen the most gruesome of injuries, but none of that affected him the way seeing this wound to his son did.

When Philip was born he knew, he knew he would do anything for him, anything to keep his son safe and give him his best chance at life. It was when Philip was born that he finally understood what his mother had done for him.

He had gotten so sick he wasn’t very aware of the world around him. As far as he could remember his mother had not been sick at first, and she cared for him like she always did. It was that night when she was holding him, when he was sure he was dying, when he noticed she was sick as well. As she became sicker, his head began to clear, and the thought of death began to fade to memory. He fell asleep in her arms, and that is when they last spoke together.

His vision was all white, maybe he was still dying, but then she was there, his mother, looking calmer and sadder than he had ever seen her. 

She spoke to him. “I love you so much Alexander. I am so sorry that I have to go.”

“What’s happening Mother? Where do you have to go?” he asked, and hugged her tightly, burying his head in her chest.

“I have to move on Alexander, to the otherside. It is the only way to save you, just like my father did for me.” she said solemnly, as she stroked his hair.

“Why would you do this?” he asked looking up at her, his eyes filling with tears. “If it is my time to die, why would you take my place?”

“It is not your time yet, dearheart. Not if I have any say in it.” she said earnestly. “When you have children- and I do so hope you live to have children- you will understand.”

She gave him a tight squeeze then put her hands on his shoulders and held him at arm's length. “There are a million things you haven’t done yet, my beautiful boy. So go, go blow me away.” She released him and began to walk away. “I love you Alexander.”

He tried to go after her, but he was rooted in his spot. “Mother!” he cried. “Mother!” But it was no use. She was gone and Alexander woke up, still in her arms, but without any of her warmth.

Alexander survived the illness that took his mother. Everyone had said his survival was a miracle, and they never knew how exactly right they were. And he never tried to explain, he knew no one would believe him or understand, he hardly understood himself.

But when Philip was born he knew. His mother had been gifted the power to trade her life for his, and he now had that power for his children. It had been a startling realization, as he held a newborn Philip in his arms. He had promised to make the world safe and sound for him, to avoid having to use this power. To avoid leaving his children without their father.

But now it was time, and he knew what he had to do.

 

Hamilton pulled out a new piece of parchment and stared at it. Where to even begin? He knew he didn’t have much time, that Philip didn’t have much time. He could feel it, an unexplainable counter in his head like counting paces in a duel, each step closer to a choice that would lead to detrimental consequences. But he could also feel that he had enough time to write a goodbye, and he would owe Eliza an explanation for the choice he was making. He owed her so much more than that, but it was all he could give her under the circumstances. He took a small comfort in the fact that if there was one decision he ever made in his life that she would completely understand, it was this one.

With one last stroke of his pen, he signed his name and was left staring at the letter -it wasn’t good enough, but it was all he could manage. A small moan of pain escaped from Philip’s lips and found its way to his ears and pulled Hamilton back to the more imminent matter. He sealed the letter and left it on his desk, addressed to Eliza, before moving over to Philip’s bedside. He gathered his son in his arms the best he could without causing him any more pain. 

He took one last look at Eliza, she was still sleeping. Good, it was better this way. He wouldn’t want her to think she could have stopped him, to think that she was in anyway responsible for what was about to happen. There was no choice, and she would know that, but if she were awake she would still feel guilty, having to watch him die, even if they both knew Philip should be the one to live. And Eliza didn’t deserve that guilt.

Hamilton closed his eyes and just focused on how much he loved his son, and his vision became white as he seemed to separate from his body, just as he had all those years ago.

It was clearer this time; maybe because he was older, or because he was the one initiating the trade. He made no attempt to observe his surroundings, as his eyes immediately fixated on Philip standing several feet ahead of him. Philip looked perfect and whole, no sign of a gunshot wound. His son stood blinking in confusion, until he was able to focus on his father.

“Father, what’s happening?” Philip asked, a panicked look appearing on his face. “Am I dead? Are you dead? I’m so sorry, I did exactly as you said. I-”

The rest of Philip’s ramblings were cut off, as Hamilton closed the distance between them and hugged Philip tightly. “I know, son. You did everything just right. This isn’t your fault, it’s all my fault and I hope someday you’ll be able to forgive me.”

“Father, I-”

“Shh, we don’t have much time. I need you to know that I am sorry and that I love you very much.”

“Pa, you’re scaring me,” Philip said, pulling a little out of his father’s grip to look him in the eye. “Am I dying?”

“No son, not anymore. I’m taking your place, like my mother did for me.” Hamilton’s heart broke a little as Philip’s face filled with horror. He tried for comfort, but what could he really say? “Don’t try to protest. It is my job as your father to protect you, and I failed, and this is my chance to make it right.

“Losing you would be unimaginable; for me, for your mother, for our family. They don’t deserve to lose you and you most definitely do not deserve to die. I was given this gift for a reason, and if you ever have children you’ll understand, and you’ll have this power too, though I pray you will never have to use it.”

Philip looked like he was at a loss for words. Luckily Hamilton had more than enough and such a short time to fill them with. The problem was choosing the right ones. “It’s going to be alright Philip. Maybe not right away- I’m so sorry I have to leave you and the rest of the family, if I could find another way I would, but you are far more important. Life will go on and you’ll move on and you will get to live your life Philip. The world needs you, this country will need you, and most importantly your mother needs you. The world has had quite enough of me.”

Hamilton dropped his eyes from Philip’s in shame. There were so many things he’d done wrong, so many times he had hurt his family. He hated that it took this tragedy for him to see it. His eyes met Philip’s again, he expected to see some sort of repulsion, anger even. But Philip was looking at him like he finally understood what his father was really saying, or at least he hoped that was what that look was. Hamilton was pretty sure his sentences were beginning to border on senseless, but he pressed on, there were more important things to be said.

He could feel their time together running out, each of his breaths like the tick of a clock and another step toward the final moment. “Philip, I’m sorry that I have to leave you, I’m sorry I haven’t always been there. But I love you so much and I am so proud of you.” Pride still wasn’t the word he was looking for, but it was the closest he had ever been able to get. He looked into Philip’s eyes, pleading silently for him to understand.

Philip’s eyes were filled with tears, but his voice was unwavering. “I love you too, Father.”

Hamilton pulled his son into one last embrace, their time was at its end. “Take care of your mother for me, tell her I’m sorry, she loves you so much. And take care of your siblings, give them each a hug from me. And tell the one on the way that I’m sorry we never got to meet, but I love them too.”

“I will Pa.”

“And one more thing,” Hamilton added as he pushed Philip to arms length, soaking in his last look at his son. “Just blow us all away”

He kissed Philip gently on his forehead, like he had when Philip was a baby, and wiped the tears from his cheeks. Time was up, he stepped back and Philip began to fade away, or maybe it was him who was fading. The vision began to darken, yet he felt completely calm.

He could see figures forming in the darkness, on the other side. Laurens was leading a soldier's chorus on the other side. His mother was on the other side. Washington was watching him from the other side. Yet he kept holding on to his last glimpse of Philip and his last thoughts of Eliza. 

Philip would be alright. He would be there to make Eliza smile, it was as it should be.  And it was enough. 

…

Eliza fiddled with the envelope in her hands while gazing over at Philip, who had only just fallen back asleep after the doctor had looked him over. His chest was rising and falling steadily, he was going to live. The doctor had said it was a miracle, that Philip should not be alive right now.

The doctor was as unable to explain Philip’s survival as he was to explain Alexander’s death. Eliza had woken up to daylight streaming through the windows, expecting to find her son in pain and possibly dead and her husband grieving. Instead she had found Philip still breathing, in fact looking much better than he had the night before, and her husband unmoving and slumped against the side of the bed. She tried to wake Alexander, but he did not stir and in this futile attempt she had woken her son.

Philip had jerked awake, his eyes searching until they fell on Alexander and then darted to her. He began to sob. “Mom, I’m so sorry.”

“Shh, son. It’s not your fault. You’re going to be okay.” She had tried to reassure him, wrapping him in her arms the best she could with causing him further pain. But even as she had said these things she knew they were not wholly true.

“No, Mom,” Philip had hugged her tighter. “He- Dad- he traded his life for mine. He said to tell you that he’s sorry. He said he had too, but that you would understand, and he’s sorry.”

Eliza had assumed that Philip was delirious and held him as they cried together. Someone had come in not long after and taken Alexander’s body away, but she was too distraught to remember. It wasn’t until Philip had fallen back asleep and Angelica had knelt down next to her, giving her a hug only sisters could give.

Angelica pressed a small envelope into her hand. “I found this on his desk,” she whispered. “It’s addressed to you.”

This had been over an hour ago, her tears had ceased for the moment and she felt a strange numbness as she stared down at that same envelope in her hand now, still unopened. She wasn’t sure if she ever wanted to open it. By opening it and reading whatever was inside would be reading the last thing Alexander had ever written. If she read this he would truly be gone.

She looked back at Philip again, breathing and alive. And Alexander was not. Alexander had been perfectly healthy, yet when the doctor had said he had died of an infection, the same infection that Philip had miraculously recovered from.

She needed answers and Alexander had always seemed to have them. 

Shaking fingers ripped the seal and she opened the envelope to find a letter, surprised to see just one page, perhaps he hadn’t had much time. As she read the letter, her tears returned, and she suddenly felt more love for her husband than she ever had before.

_ This letter, my very dear Eliza, is to be seen by you only after I  shall have terminated my earthly career; to begin, as I humbly hope from redeeming grace and divine mercy, a happy immortality. _

_ If it had been possible for me to have avoided the parting, my love for you and my precious children would have been alone a decisive motive. But it is that same love for our eldest child that makes it unavoidable. I need not tell you of the pangs I feel, from the idea of quitting you and exposing you to the anguish which I know you would feel. Nor could I allow our dear Philip to die if I could have any hand at saving him.  _

_ For you must understand, I have been granted the gift of the ability to trade my life for any of our children. I have been aware of this ability since the birth of our eldest, and have suspected it for longer, as my mother used the same ability to save me long ago, I have never told you in the irrational fear that speaking of it aloud would initiate the requirement of its use. I know you will understand that I have no choice but to use this power, perhaps you understand even more than I do, even though I am on the cusp of performing the act. _

_ I hope that someday you will come to forgive me,  for hurting you so,  for both my parting from you now and for all I have done in the past. I hope Philip will help you to smile,  for that would be enough. With my last idea; I shall cherish the sweet hope of meeting you in a better world. _

_ Adieu best of wives and best of Women. Embrace all my darling Children for me. _

_ Ever yours _

_ A H _

“Oh, Alexander,” she said, wiping away tears before they could fall and damage the letter. “I forgive you.”

…

It was spring time, nearly two years later, and Eliza sat in the garden, with her youngest son, nearly two himself, bouncing on her lap.  She was watching the rest of her children, all eight of them, enjoy the warm weather after a harsh winter. 

Philip, now twenty-one years, and with only a ugly scar to remember that night, approached her, after settling a quarrel between two of his younger siblings. Her son on her lap squirmed toward his older brother. Philip took the baby from her and spun him in the air.

“How are ya doin’ Little Phil?” he asked. The family had taken to calling their youngest member Little Phil, in account of his striking resemblance to his older brother and his perchance to follow his brother around everywhere he went. 

The boy in question giggled in response and chanted. “Again! Again!”

“I’ll take him of your hands for a little while, Mother,” Philip said and kissed her cheek. Then he set off with Little Phil chortling happily on his back.

She smiled as she watched them go. Philip had grown into the brilliant young man she always knew he could be. 

Eliza looked up and said a quiet prayer to the heavens. “Thank you Alexander. It’s enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading. This is my first ever posted piece of fanfiction and I'm a bit nervous about it. I hope it was okay.
> 
> Portions of the letter Hamilton writes in this story are taken directly from his actually last letter to Eliza, which can be found at https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Hamilton/01-26-02-0001-0248


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